


Fire & Ice: First Touches

by Phoenix2312



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/M, First touches, Fluff, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 07:54:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11801718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix2312/pseuds/Phoenix2312
Summary: Isabelle is like fire, burning flames and white hot passions. Raphael is like Ice, cold and hard with so much hiding just under the surface. They shouldn't work. But somehow they do. A three part series about their firsts as they navigate their strange new relationship and Raphael's asexual nature. This is Raphael's first time exploring Isabelle's body.





	Fire & Ice: First Touches

It’s been just over a month since their first kiss and Isabelle is happy. Thrilled even. Kissing Raphael is absolutely amazing but she needs more. 

She is burning. His kisses set her body and soul on fire, every damn time. When he slides his fingers through her raven locks, tugging lightly she melts against him.

But as desperate as she is for more. She refuses to push him because she cares for him too much (more than she ever thought she’d be able to care for anyone in that way). 

Isabelle does her best to let him set the pace as kisses deepen and hands begin to roam. She lets him lead. On some days, he’ll gently kiss her before pulling away and other days he teases her mouth with his tongue and glides his cold hands over her still clothed body. Over her back, waist, hips and even occasionally over her breasts.

The first time his cool fingers find her nipples through her shirt she gasps and arches into his palm. He’s intrigued by the feel of her, he’s never touched anyone so intimately. And he keeps doing it when their kisses turn hot and hands find purchases against bodies. 

He doesn’t exactly derive pleasure from it, but he doesn’t dislike it either. 

He is fascinated by her and above all else he relishes the sounds that fall from his her plump lips. Little breathless gasps, whimpers and groans of pleasure. He may not feel sexual pleasure like others do, may not have the desire to feel it himself, yet he’s found that he loves making her feel that pleasure. 

Raphael can feel the heat radiating off of her, feel the flames just under the surface and he enjoys it more than he’s ever thought possible. He wants to make her burn with so much pleasure, wants her to be a white, hot raging inferno of passion. Because he adores her all of her, for everything she is and most of all for the way she burns, bright and hot and without mercy. 

He feels as if she is warming his icy heart.

One evening she is with him at his apartment, they are dancing to his favourite Latin music. He’s been teaching her the salsa. 

She looks beautiful, and when she tosses her head back in laughter his heart gives a jerk in his chest. It’s the closest thing to a beat in many, many years.

Suddenly the music changes, soft, slow and sultry notes emanate from the speakers. 

Without hesitation, he draws her in so that their bodies are flush together. He can feel her heat. 

Isabelle's eyes find his and lock there. She locks her arms around his back pulling him even closer. His icy skin sends a jolt through her already tense body.

A charged moment passes before their lips connect. This time it is anything but gentle. He sucks and nips at her lips, never drawing blood but drawing little gasps and groans from her. It is more addicting than her blood ever was.

The kiss deepens even further as his hands slide over her body, roaming her curves. He stops on the swell of her ass, and lingers there. She pushes into him harder, they are pressed so tightly together they nearly meld into one body. 

Raphael isn’t sure what’s come over him but he’s feeling bold and there’s something else he can’t quite explain something that feels almost like desperation driving him. He wants to touch her but not like this. Not over her skin-tight dress, not over the lacy undergarments that he knows lie beneath.

No. He wants to touch her, his Isabelle.

Without much effort, he lifts her up. She lets out a deep groan from low in her throat that almost sounds like a growl before wrapping her legs around his hips, locking her ankles.

When they reach the bedroom he maneuvers them so the back of his legs hit the bed frame. He sits down with her in his lap, her black dress ridding up her thighs. His fingers itch to feel her hot skin.

Just as he’s about to touch she pulls away from their kiss. Breathing heavy.

She rests her forehead against his. He doesn’t move his hands, just breaths in the scent of her. Sugar and vanilla and blood… and heat.

“Raphael, are you sure? Not that I don’t want this because I do… but you…”

He cuts her off with a chaste kiss.

“I’m not ready for everything tonight, mi amor, but I want more of you. I want to see you, to feel your skin.”

She shivers at his words, heat pulsing to her center.

Instead of saying anything she gracefully climbs off his lap and stands before him.

His eyes are bright as he watches her.

She steps out of her heels first, then brings her hands around to her back, unzipping her dress.

It peels away from her skin, revealing smooth, tanned flesh inked with runes. Her collarbones are sharp and contrast her full, supple chest. Her stomach is taut, her hip bones just visible; round hips taper to lean, muscular legs and dainty feet. 

Raphael lets his eyes drink her in. She is the picture of a goddess, a living portrait of strength, passion and beauty. 

Without her usual flare, she unhooks her bra and lets its fall to the floor, however she leaves her panties on not wanting to push too far. Then she’s standing before him almost bare. Isabelle is confident, with every reason, and she knows it. But in front of him she almost feels exposed, not her body but her heart, her soul. 

She never takes her eyes from him as he drinks in the sight of her. The way he looks at her is different than the way other men (and sometimes women) do. She is used to being gazed at like a piece of meat, not that she minds. Sexual energy rolls off of her, and she’s used her looks to her advantage since hitting puberty. 

But Raphael looks at her and admires her the way one would a beautiful painting or a magnificent sculpture. His eyes rake over every each of her bare flesh before coming back up to meet her eyes. He stands and reaches for her. His hands slide down her arms before moving on first to waist and then hips. His fingers are ice cold and it sends shivers down her spine, hardening her nipples instantly.

Raphael spends the next quarter of an hour roaming his hands over her body. Gliding fingertips across her stomach, tracing her runes, swirling fingers across nipples. Isabelle is on fire. She can feel the wet heat of her center pulsing, she thinks she may explode from the sensory overload. 

Her head is tossed back, moans of pleasure falling from red lips and Raphael is drinking in every sound as he memorizes her body with his hands. He finds her neck with his lips and ghosts them over the vein throbbing at her throat. Experimentally he drags his tongue along the skin. The sound she makes is sweeter than the most beautiful music.

She’s absolutely desperate now. But she knows nothing more will happen tonight so she gently pulls away, breathing hard.

He gives her a questioning look.

“I can’t take anymore tonight, I know you’re not ready for more and if we don’t stop now, I’m not sure I’ll be able to.”

He just nods at her and steps a little further back.

He can see now that she’s flushed, not just her cheeks but her whole body. He can smell the scent of her on the air, and he realizes he kind of likes it. Not because it arouses him the way it should, but because it is her. It is pure Isabelle. His Isabelle.

He liked touching her skin too, enjoyed the closeness of contact and giving her pleasure. For him that’s the part that matters, because this is for her.

She turns around and walks to the bathroom. He can hear her splashing cool water on her face and smiles a little at that. Then an idea strikes. Lightning fast his strips off all but his underwear and stands near the bed, waiting for her. 

When she emerges from the bathroom her eyes find him immediately. She drinks him in. The hard-muscular plane of his abdomen, his broad shoulders, strong arms and toned back.

She moves towards him and reaches out to run her hand along his stomach. Her fingers are warm against his cold, smooth skin. 

Some time later they’re curled together on his bed, skin to skin. Isabelle’s head tucked under Raphael’s chin, their arms and legs tangled together. Their bodies melding into one. 

He breaths in the scent of her as she sleeps peacefully. 

Together they are the perfect yin and yang, his ice to her fire. Raphael never imagined he'd be her, not with anyone- especially a shadowhunter. But as he pulls Isabelle even closer, feeling all of her body against him he can't think of anywhere else he'd rather be.


End file.
